


Decompose

by Vector



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Community: het_challenge, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-13
Updated: 2007-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vector/pseuds/Vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Nalbina Dungeon. For prompt: <i>making the best of a trying situation.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Decompose

It was terribly hard to look directly in the face of the Imperials as they cast Sleep on him and Fran, but Balthier had practice biding his time. So he just smirked and let the spell come, noticing as he did that their young thief was taking it less gracefully. Vaan was swiftly knocked out with a solid blow to the back of the head, and Sleep settling over him afterwards changed his countenance not at all.

When Balthier woke, his eyes landed immediately on Fran, who was standing in a doorway looking at him. A quick glance around confirmed that wherever they were, it was no place pleasant. Vaan was still out cold on the dirt floor. He himself was propped up against the stone ledge that ran the edge of the room, a position with at least slightly more dignity. He raised an eyebrow at Fran.

"I awoke a while ago," she confirmed, with a slight curve of her lips. "We had been left out in the plaza with the rest of the inhabitants of this place. Unfortunately many of them were less than hospitable; once I made clear that their approaches were unwelcome, I thought it best to withdraw to a place more removed from their eyes."

So she had moved them all in here. No doubt they were much better off.

"This room was abandoned, so it was my choice, given our limited options." Her eyes flicked to what was unmistakably the reason for said abandonment. The slaven in the room during their conversation so far, so to speak, as he at least had been ignoring it studiously. Only in this case the slaven was a bangaa, and an unmistakably dead one.

It wasn't terribly bad, Balthier supposed. It had probably not been dead long, for the corpse was whole and unmarred, and the slight stench in the air was that of a more generalized death and despair rather than immediate, overwhelming rot.

Then again, the corpse was wrinkled and dried, and coated with a slight layer of dust. Perhaps it was simply that bangaa did not decompose in the same way as humes. Balthier's stomach turned slightly.

He coughed to cover his reaction, and not in the least because he was beginning to wonder what he was breathing. "I can't imagine why such an excellent space would be so empty. Surely with accommodations like this, people are clamoring for the imperial shackles."

Fran acknowledged his weak attempt with a slight roll of her eyes. Then she turned back away to scan the people milling in the larger space beyond their alcove.

Balthier's muscles ached as he stood, and he felt slimy and gritty with sweat and grains of dirt. It would seem that the Imperials had been less than gentle and considerate. Terrible surprise, that. He attempted a few times to brush off the dust that coated his clothes before giving the attempt up as fruitless.

His cuffs were still tinged off-white from the sewers.

"We need to get out of here."

"Does prison take its toll so quickly?" Fran's voice was amused, but he thought could hear slight strains of stress underneath.

"We've been in worse quandaries. Though perhaps none that come immediately to mind." He stretched, leaning forward and back and propping his legs on the ledge to stretch them. For some reason the fact that magick-induced Sleep accomplished little in the way of true recuperation seemed like a new revelation every time. "But I am filthy and weary, and while I suspect those are two conditions which will only worsen before we escape, they're not like to get better sitting around here."

"Mmm." Fran said, and moved away from the door to join him on his side of the room.

At the cock of his head—"The others seem to have lost interest in us for now. I gather that those who consider themselves in charge are elsewhere."

"Well. You take your luck were you find it, I suppose."

"No doubt." Taking a place by his side, Fran turned to the prone form of Vaan on the floor. "Your impatience notwithstanding, we have our young friend to consider."

"As if you like this place any better than I." He brushed a smudge of dirt off the glossy armor at her hip. "You're right, of course. With the tap to the head he took, he'll likely be out quite a while longer. And we can hardly leave him here."

"All truth."

"You have a plan."

"Yes."

Across the room, Vaan stirred slightly, which meant at least his rest was now natural instead of magickal. As natural as "knocked unconscious" managed, anyway.

He sighed and turned an inquiring look at Fran.

"I will find a way out. You will stay here on guard."

Balthier's mouth twisted. "I don't particularly like this plan."

Fran's fingers landed lightly on his jaw, and his lips were quickly covered by hers as she bent to meet him in a kiss. His hands fell to Fran's hips automatically, and muscles he hadn't known he'd been tensing relaxed as he returned the gesture. Then he broke away.

"That's not going to make me agree to your plan, you know."

"No," said Fran. "You will agree to my plan because it is right."

"Hmm," Balthier said noncommittally, and pulled Fran closer to mouth at the side of her neck. His nostrils were filled with the scent of her hair, only slightly marred by the dust and dank smell of this place. He ran his teeth lightly over the tendon and felt Fran shudder slightly under the touch.

She pushed him away, and her lips found his again, with more force this time. Her hands on his shoulders guided him, and he shortly felt his shoulder blades brush slightly at the stone wall. He leaned against it for support as the kiss deepened, Fran's body pressing close to his as she licked leisurely at the inside of his mouth.

It was far too little time before she shifted away again, and yet it was too much, considering where they were.

"You should go, then," Balthier spoke admirably evenly, he thought, though a ghost of a smirk danced on Fran's face.

"From even here I believe I sense Mist, though it is faint. There is a way out." Fran, in contrast, spoke as if she related simple facts. "I will find it, and make my way back."

"Well, certainly. I'm not about to spend the rest of my life in prison with only a dead bangaa and an idiot Dalmascan thief for company." It was easier to believe that now.

Fran smiled truly now. "Surely not." With that she was moving, and she only nodded briefly in the doorway before she was gone.

Balthier settled himself on the stone ledge to wait for their thiefling to wake.


End file.
